The End Of The Road
by Lilwazzabug
Summary: The Winchester's fear has been realized and now it has come to pass. Written for fanfic challenge.
1. Chapter 1

The moment that the two Winchester brothers had been fearing had finally come to past. They both had fought it, ignored it, even denied its possibility of actually happening; but it took place just the same. Sam had turned. All the good inside of him wiped out in a second, the essence that made him Sam Winchester, Dean's beloved little brother, had been replaced by something beyond recognition. Dean had watched it happen; he had seen the _exact_ moment when something inside Sam shifted, releasing the darkness and fury within, bringing Dean's worst nightmare to life.

Sam had held the possessed man's head under in a bucket of holy water, his face perspiring from the steam that engulfed it as the demon gripped in his hands kicked and flailed against the burn of the sanctified liquid against its skin. He had tortured the demon for the information he needed, leaving the body of thepossessedextremely broken and bleeding. Dean had watched and interfered on the occasion when Sam got too vigorous in his interrogation, reminding him of the innocent person trapped inside. Sam simply shrugged off Dean's warning and continued reading the Latin words from the exorcism listed in their Father's leather-bound journal.

Finally the exorcism was finished, the demon expelled from the innocent man's body and into the protective circle above, leaving him slumped over and gasping in pain. Dean rushed to the man, checking the severity of his injuries and speaking soft words of comfort. Dean was working on untying his left arm when he heard a gunshot. A bullet flew past him, mere inches from his head, and hit the newly-freed man in the chest. Dean jumped back in shock as another shot sounded from the gun clutched in Sam's hand, hitting the man in the right shoulder.

"Sam!" Dean was on his feet in a second and running at Sam, tackling him to the ground right after he fired a third bullet into the now-dead man. The brother's fell to the floor with a thud, fighting for the gun.

"Sam! What the hell are you doing?!?!" Dean finally managed to wrestle the gun from his brother's grip and toss it out of reach. Sam smirked at Dean and threw him clear across the room, crashing him hard against a wall; a feat a regular man could normally never accomplish. Dean gasped as the air flowed back to his lungs. His head swam and his vision crossed in and out of focus as he looked up at Sam, who was now standing over him.

"S-Sammy?" Dean gasped breathlessly, his heart beating fast within his heaving chest.

Sam raised his hand, palm facing up toward the ceiling. Dean felt an invisible force pull him to his feet and press him against the wall. Dean searched the face of the person in front of him, confused and stricken with panic at the strangely unfamiliar eyes that stared back at him. Sam's lips twisted down into an angry frown. His voice was deep and even as he spoke through clenched teeth.

"It's Sam."

With another quick movement of his hand, Sam bashed Dean's head against the wall with crushing force. He released his invisible hold after a moment, allowing Dean to fall heavily to the floor, unconscious.

That had been a month ago, and Dean hadn't heard from or seen his brother since.


	2. Chapter 2

"Seven possessions in just three days; these evil bastards are stepping up their game." Bobby had just ended a call with one of his hunter friends and he turned to Dean, who was seated at his new favorite location: the computer. Dark circles made themselves painfully noticeable on Dean's face and his eyes, normally bright and full of life, appeared dull from lack of sleep.

He just gave a quick look to Bobby and nodded, but remained quiet. Dean had been staying with him since Sam turned and dropped off the face of the earth. They had been hunting down and exorcising every single escaped demon they could get their hands on, hoping each time to gain some information on where Sam might be. Bobby looked through sad, worried eyes at the young hunter sitting across the book-cluttered room.

"Dean, maybe you should get some rest."

Dean's fingers ran over the keys on Sam's laptop computer as the soft sound of a TV acted as background noise. He glanced towards Bobby, dismissing his suggestion, then looked right back at the screen before him, its light casting a soft glow over his wearied features. Dean hit the "search**" **buttonand leaned back in the hard chair, rubbing his chin briefly.

"Sleep doesn't help anything, Bobby." His voice was flat and void of any signs of agreement. He _knew_ he could make Sam snap out of it and turn back into himself again; Dean refused to stop trying until the job was finished. _Dean's _job, that's what it was. _"That's my job right? Watch after my pain-in-the-ass little brother_?" That moment, the night Sam had been taken right from his hands, replayed in Dean's tortured mind almost constantly. Dean had made a deal, Sam's revived life for his death on that same night in the following year. These thoughts only fueled Dean's rock-solid stubbornness and determination to save Sam from the darkness that consumed his soul.

Bobby took a slow step towards Dean after a few moments of watching him stare absently, lost in thought, at the screen before him.

"Dean...what if Sam can't be tur-"

"No." Dean cut Bobby off short, glaring up at him, giving him the exact same look that he'd given him every other time he brought up the question that Dean feared and denied most.

"I did not make that deal for it all to end like this." Dean's features twitched with the pain and passion that sounded in his deep voice.

"I will find Sam, and I will bring him back."

Bobby gave up, nodding slowly. It frightened him when Dean acted like this, when there was _nothing _he wasn't willing to do in order to reach the goal he had his mind set on. He had seen him like this before. The same look had been in Dean's eyes the night Sam had been killed. His lifeless body rested on a bed in another room as Dean argued with Bobby, refusing to bury or burn his brother's body.

"I just don't want you to be disappointed if-"

"Well don't worry, I won't be." Dean looked back at the search results on the screen.

Bobby turned to leave the room, hesitating at the doorway. Dean was like a son to him, and he just couldn't help but be scared for him.

"Sam is strong, Dean. Dangerous." He spoke softly after being silent for a few moments.

Dean shook his head, his voice thick with emotion and increasing rage. "Sammy's _not_ dangerous."

Bobby walked over to him, speaking with more urgency than before. "You saw first hand what he can do. Jesus, Dean! You were out of it for days because of that crack to the head he gave you!"

"That wasn't Sam!" Dean avoided Bobby's gaze, trying to control the emotions bubbling up inside him.

"No, but it's who he is right now. He could kill you, Dean! Without caring or thinking twice!"

Dean slammed his fists and stood up, unable to keep his voice down any longer.

"I don't care what it takes! Do you not get that? I..Don't..Care!"

Bobby stared at him in disbelief, unable to say anything. Dean's chin trembled a bit and he turned away, wiping one hand over his face and resting the other on his hip. He stood with his back turned for a few moments. Finally, he shook his head slowly.

"He's my brother, Bobby..." His voice was low and soft as he turned back to Bobby.

"...He's all I've got left." Dean's eyes shone with un-fallen tears, his face occasionally contorting with emotion.

"I have to try. And if I can-...can't save him?" He breathed out a smile, running his hand over his mouth slowly.

"To hell with it all then." Dean said, gesturing carelessly with his hand.

The room remained quiet for awhile except for the low babbling of a commercial on TV. Both hunters just stared at each other, saying nothing. After a moment, Bobby nodded and broke the silence.

"Just watch out for yourself, Okay? Don't try to do anything stupid."

Dean sniffed, wiping a hand over his blurred vision, and returned to his station in front of the computer. Bobby waited for some indication from Dean that he would do what he had asked him. He finally left the room only after Dean did so with a short nod.

Dean stared blankly for a moment at no one thing in particular. He had no plan, no help-Bobby tried, but he didn't really do much good-, and no idea where the hell Sam might be. Dean shook his head and rested his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands.

"In more tragic news, a house in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania caught fire, due to what is said to be faulty wiring. This unfortunate fire claimed the life of a mother last night."

Dean raised his head out of his hands as the news bulletin on the television struck an all too familiar note in his head.

"Last night, thirty-four year old Madelin Arbor's life was claimed in a tragic fire that completely engulfed her home."

Dean stood up slowly and walked over to the old television set. A picture of a married couple and their young baby appeared on the screen.

"...She will be dearly missed. Madelin leaves behind her husband, Mitchell, and her six month old daughter, Cathleen; both managed to escape the house before the fire claimed their lives too, Jeanine?"

The rest of the news was drowned out by the intense pounding of Dean's heart in his ears.

"I'll be damned."

His mind replayed all the details of the news report. _"Fire, Faulty Wiring, Mother Dies, Six Month Old Child." "That's impossible! How could...?" _ Dean rushed back to the computer and typed in a search for Harrisburg's local newspaper. He scrolled down through recent articles.

"Electrical Storms Illuminate Harrisburg." The article was dated one day previous to the fire that Dean had just seen reported on the news. He scrolled down some more, eyes stopping on another article dated two days before the fire.

"Farmer's Cattle Dies: No Explanation Found." Dean's eyes darted quickly over the list, searching for the final article that would validate his suspicions; he found it.

"Bizarre Temperatures Puzzle Meteorologists." Dean dropped back in the chair, running his hands through his hair.

"Holy crap."


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell?"

Dean had immediately gone to Bobby and told him all about what he had just seen and heard. Bobby was looking over the articles.

"This is impossible. You killed the yellow-eyed demon."

Dean was pacing around the room, trying to figure out what was going on.

"I know. There's no way it's him." Dean shook his head, still pacing like a caged animal. "Something else is doing this. It's finishing that demon-bastards work and recruiting more 'soldiers' or whatever that twisted son of a bitch called those children whose lives he ruined."

Bobby looked at some pictures he found from the Arbor House fire. He shook his head sadly.

"This is bad, real bad."

Dean flicked up his eyebrows.

"Yeah." He stopped in front of Bobby and put his hands on the table, resting forward against the back of his palms.

"Except this time, we know what to look for and we can stop it before anyone else is killed."

Bobby took in a deep breath, letting is out slowly. "Ya think the same thing that's doing this controls the army of demons as well?"

Dean shrugged a little but looked confident in Bobby's suggestion. "If so, we need to hunt it down. If it is the leader, he'll know where Sam is."

Bobby could hear the hope rising in Dean's voice; a tone he hadn't heard in a long time.

"What do you want to do?" He asked quietly after a moment.

Dean bit his lip and let his eyes wander around the room as he thought.

"We keep our eyes open for more signs." He pushed off the table and straightened up, returning to his pacing of the room. "And we need to-" Dean stopped as his attention was drawn away from finishing his sentence. A man was standing in the doorway, looking straight at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Bobby stood up quickly, caught completely off guard by the unfamiliar and unexpected visitor.

The man's face kept the same blank yet determined expression as he seemed to not hear Bobby's question. He lifted a large, silver gun at arms length and pointed it at Dean.

"You're getting too close." The man's eyes turned into seemingly bottomless pits of black as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet exploded out of the gun, missing Dean by a few centimeters as he dropped to the floor in avoidance of the fired shot. He rolled quickly behind a piece of furniture as another shot went off. Dean searched around for anything that might suffice as a weapon. The shots continued, missing Dean barely as he managed to dodge them each time. Dean heard the hiss of holy water sizzling against impure skin as he ducked behind a wall that separated the room. He heard one more shot and then the sound of a body hitting the floor. The silence that followed startled Dean and fear started to creep over him. _"Oh God, Bobby..." _Dean jumped to his feet.

"Bobby!" He started towards the spot where he'd heard the thud of dead weight, but stopped before he could go a few steps. The shooter was sprawled out on the floor with a gash trickling blood down the right side of his face, small snakes of steam still rising from where the holy water scorched his skin. Bobby stood at the feet of the possessed, flask in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. He looked up at Dean, a pleased smile teasing at the corners of his bearded face.

"I'm good."

Dean's face relaxed and he laughed a little out of pure relief. He kicked the gun across the floor, far out of the unconscious man's reach.

"That's one way to find out we're on the right track." Dean smiled and looked down at the man on the floor. He shook his head and wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Looks like the demons are keeping an eye on us." Said Bobby, leaning the bat against a wall.

Dean sighed and frowned. "Great."

They both stared at the demon-possessed man who had just tried to kill Dean, taking a few moments to allow the adrenaline in their systems to creep back down to a normal level.

"Well..." Dean said after a minute. "...Looks like we may get some answers sooner than we thought." Dean motioned Bobby to the man's feet as he took hold of his arms. They lifted the unconscious man up and carried him into the other room, placing him in the invisible bars of the protective circle drawn on the ceiling. They secured him to a chair and went about gathering all the things necessary to perform an exorcism.

Bobby readied some holy water and Dean leafed through his father's journal, searching for an appropriate exorcism.

"You ready?" Bobby looked up at Dean finally. Dean had found what he was looking for and he nodded, handing the open journal to Bobby. He put his hand in one of the buckets and scooped up a handful of holy water. Dean threw it on the possessed man's face, getting an immediate reaction. The demon sprang to life and screamed out in pain. Its black eyes glared up at Dean through the steam rising off its cheeks and a wicked laugh escaped from its lips.

"He told me killing you wouldn't be easy."

Dean smirked. "It never is."

He looked up at Bobby and made a motion with his head, indicating for him to start reading. Bobby nodded and started reciting the Latin words scribbled down on the opened page of the journal.

"Regna terræ, cantáte Deo, psállite Dómino..."

"Who sent you?" Dean looked down with disgust at the demon staring back at him through its stolen eyes.

"Our leader." The man said simply.

"Oh yeah? And who's that?"

The demon just stared, seemingly amused, at the man in front of him. Dean's lip twitched and he bent closer to the demon's face.

"Where's my brother?"

The demon laughed, tugging at its restraints in attempts to lunge at Dean. Dean didn't move an inch; he didn't even flinch.

"You're brother?" The demon continued to cackle. "He's not your brother anymore."

Dean looked away and stood up, walking over to the table a few feet away.

"He hasn't been your brother for a long, long time, Deany-boy. If you saw him now you probably wouldn't even recognize him." The demon raised the man's voice in a taunting manner.

Dean picked up one of the buckets and threw its contents on the possessed man. The demon threw its head back and screamed in agony, steam rising from all over its host's body. Dean threw the empty bucket aside and approached the demon. He gripped its face and pulled it forward to look at him.

"If you know what's good for you, you'd answer my questions." Dean's voice was low and his green eyes reflected the intensity that that sounded through it. The demon glared daggers at him, breathing hard.

"Where...is...Sam." Dean asked again, slowly.

The beginning affects of the ritual finally reached the demon. It clenched its eyes shut and groaned heavily. Dean released its jaw, forcing its head back a little as he did so. He straightened up and took a step back, keeping his eyes steady on the demon. The man's body trembled as the evil within cringed against the Latin words that reached his ears. The demon finally opened its eyes, staring out at Dean.

"Our leader? He's gonna continue what he's doing. Recruiting children, killing their mothers, burning houses to the ground." A malicious smile twisted up the possessed face.

"And when he's done with that...He's gonna _kill _you."

Bobby stopped and looked up from his reading. He looked between Dean and the demon in front of him.

"He's gonna make you scream. He's gonna bleed you until you don't have even have enough energy to blink."

The cold words sent a chill of fear down Bobby's spine, but Dean just stared at the demon, a vague look of amusement turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Why didn't he come here and do the job himself then? He sent one of his bitches instead."

The demon looked Dean once over slowly and smiled after a minute.

"You know that little deal you made? That's what sent Sammy over the edge."

Dean's face hardened, his jaw clenching into a frown.

"He was having a good ol' time in heaven, but you pulled back and..." The demon made a "poof" sound. "...You damned him."

"Dean..." Bobby took a few steps towards him, but Dean put up his hand and nodded reassuringly. Bobby stopped and continued reading.

"You're in no position to talk about 'the damned', you demonic son of a bitch."

The demon could tell it had gotten to Dean by the way his voice faltered a bit mid-sentence.

"Oh, so you admit you made him into what he is?" The demon pushed on.

"He could have been resting in peace. Reunited with mommy dearest and beautiful Jess. You screwed him out of being so very incredibly happy."

Dean couldn't take it any more. He lunged forward and brought his fist into direct contact with the possessed man's nose. The force knocked the chair over, sending the demon to fall hard on its back.

"Dean!" Bobby knew what the demon was saying had to be getting to Dean, but he didn't quite expect him to act on what he felt.

Dean kneeled over the man and clutched his collar tightly in his hands.

"Keep this up and I will _personally _escort you back to hell!" Dean's features were livid as he yelled in the demon's face.

The demon gasped a bit as a trickle of blood ran over its lips. Bobby grabbed the back of Dean's shirt and pulled him off the possessed. Dean violently released the collar gripped in his strong hands and stood up, shrugging off Bobby's touch.

"Dean! You know the rules!" Bobby spoke firmly as he scolded, but Dean would not meet his gaze.

"This man didn't do anything. You can't punish _him _for wh-"

"Just read." Dean mumbled through clenched teeth as he turned and walked back to the overturned chair. Bobby watched after him with concern, but he continued after a moment.

Dean bent down and took the demon's collar again. He put his left boot on the bottom wrung of the chair and violently pulled the man, chair and all, into an upright position. The demon sniffed and twisted its nose up, wincing slightly.

"At least _I_ won't have to deal with that later."

"Where is your so-called leader going next?" Dean asked flatly.

The demon shrugged. "Why should I know? I was just sent to off you."

Bobby read reached the second of the three mile markers in the exorcism. The demon recoiled more fiercely this time and the lights in the room started to flicker. The words continued to hit the demon hard, causing it to writhe and protest against them.

"Where?!" Dean demanded loudly as the panes in the windows began to rattle in their frames. The demon bent over a bit and breathed hard as its hands clutched at the chair's armrests. It made a low growling noise.

"Harlen! The family's name is Harlen!"

Dean quickly motioned Bobby to stop. "Why should we believe you?"

"You've got nothing else and you know it." The demon spat bitterly as its chest heaved.

"Where are they?" Dean persisted.

"Close, ok? Close. Are you happy now?" The man glared at Dean as his form shook all over from the nearly-purged demon inside him.

Dean smirked and shook his head.

"Almost." He looked up at Bobby and nodded.

Bobby continued with the final part of the exorcism. The possessed clenched its teeth and groaned as it spoke in halted gasps.

"I hope he makes you _beg_! I hope he kills you nice and slow!"

Dean kept his eyes fixed as the room around him started to shake; the exorcism was nearly complete.

"I hope you rot in hell." Dean retorted with venom burning in his voice.

The demon clenched its eyes closed and screamed through clenched teeth. It managed to laugh and it opened its eyes, their blackness focused on Dean.

"I'll see you there...s-soon!" The man was able to choke out the harsh words before the black smoke exploded out of his mouth and disappeared into the protective circle drawn on the ceiling. After the demon was completely expelled from the man's body, he slumped forward a little, his chest still rising and falling heavily.

Dean rushed over and knelt down before the man. The man lifted his head a little and winced. Dean began untying his bounds.

"Are you alright?"

The man blinked at him. "My...My head is killing me."

Dean smiled nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that. Do you remember anything?"

The man narrowed his eyes a bit, thinking it over.

"I was driving home from work today and I felt... funny. Then I...lost control of my body." His brow furrowed and he looked up at Dean.

His eyes grew wide after a moment. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. I'm _so _sorry. I shot at you. I tried, but I couldn't stop myself."

Dean chuckled and shook his head, untying the man's feet. "Well, I'm uh...sorry I clocked ya."

The man moved his nose and made a pained face. "I suppose I had it coming."

"Are you hurt?"

The man shook his head. "What the hell happened?"

Bobby came up with an ice-pack and handed it to the man.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you."

The man looked up at Bobby with a confused look and took the ice-pack, placing it over his nose. He moved his eye to the younger man standing in front of him, and then took a look around the strange room.

"I usually don't believe people when they say that, but I think I'll take your word for it this time."

Dean looked at Bobby. "Take him to the hospital. I'll see what I can find on the Harlen's."

Bobby nodded, helped the man out of the chair, and led him out to his old pickup truck. Dean searched for everything he could find on the Harlen family. After awhile, he discovered that all three of the signs indicating a demonic attack had cropped up in the town of Miltona, Minnesota; the town in which the Harlen family resided. Dean found all information he could on the family including a street address and the fact that they had two daughters; the younger of which was turning six months old that very night.


	4. Chapter 4

The neighborhood that the Harlen's lived in was brand new. Many of the houses on the block had not even been completely built yet. Dean and Bobby had the luck of finding a vacant house that was still under construction across the street and a few lots down from the Harlen's address.

At least the skeleton of a house had an enclosed garage. Dean realized that the old Impala, though stunning as she was, stuck out like a sore thumb and could easily blow their cover. He was glad to have a place to hide the car; its invisibility from the outside provided brief peace of mind as he and Bobby waited in the dark house.

The two hunters waited patiently. Or at least as patiently as could be expected when awaiting the arrival of who-or what-ever had taken over the Yellow-Eyed-Demon's despicable job. The duo had arrived a few hours earlier from South Dakota.

After Bobby took the man whom he and Dean had exorcised a demon from to the hospital, Dean had stayed behind and looked up all information he could on what the demon had told him before it was expelled from the innocent man's body. Dean had found sufficient information to indicate that the YED's protégé would in fact be striking again that very night. Dean had called Bobby and ordered him to return as soon as possible. Dean had gathered a bag full of weapons in the mean-time and they set off to Minnesota as soon as Bobby got back. Dean, naturally, driving and pushing the Impala's engine to the max for most of the trip.

The watch on Dean's left wrist now read a little before eight P.M. Dean's heart rate beat at a steady pace inside his chest; all of the previous attacks had taken place a little after eight and Dean expected their "friend" to show itself any moment now. He and Bobby kept close watch on the house across the street from the corner window of their current hideout. Dean's trusty EMF meter sat on the window sill right next to him, remaining perfectly quiet for the time-being.

"I don't like this. Wish we had a better plan." Bobby grumbled as he looked out the window.

"We have a plan?" Dean smiled playfully and snapped shut the barrel of the shotgun he was examining.

They didn't really have a plan. Not a good one anyway. Get in the house, save the family, stall the thing that was starting the YED's work up again and temporarily incapacitate it long enough to restrain it. They then planned to interrogate it as to what the plans of the demon-army were and above all the whereabouts of Sam. Dean and Bobby were both skeptical on the success of the whole plan, but they had little else to work with to formulate a better one.

Dean had collected a wide array of weapons that might prove useful. Shotguns filled with wrought-iron rounds, holy water, over a dozen readied exorcisms, his hunting knife, and The Colt. A little over three months ago, Sam had had the brief hope that maybe if more bullets were made to fit the antique weapon, it may work again to its full ability. Dean had thought this to be absurd and most likely just a bringer of false hope, but when he saw the old gun in the trunk of the Impala, he felt compelled to take it. If it did work, then that meant killing the thing tonight and possibly finding out where Sam was. At the time, Dean was more than willing to give it a shot...literally.

"So when this all goes down, you get the family out of the house and I'll stall the...whatever." Dean reminded Bobby of each their jobs as he put all the weapons back in the duffle bag.

"How sure are you that you will be able to stall this thing anyway?" Bobby looked over at Dean.

Dean shrugged. "You can stall anything, Bobby. It's _killing _it that's gonna be a problem."

Bobby sighed, clearly uneasy with the situation.

"Anyway, our main concern for now is just getting the family to safety." Dean added, repositioning himself more comfortably by the window.

"I suppose you are, as usual, not thinking about your own safety?"

Dean didn't look at Bobby, but kept his eyes on the glow emanating from the windows of the house across and down the street.

"I'm thinking about helping this family and finding Sam, Bobby." He said after a moment.

Bobby gave him a frustrated look. "Your life is just as important at theirs, Dean."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah thanks, Oprah."

Bobby shook his head and he sighed. "You're a real smartass." He mumbled.

Dean smiled, not helping but note that if it were he and Sam having this discussion, now would be the time they would exchange their signature, single-worded responses.

Something out of the corner of Dean's eyes caught his attention. Dean looked out the window and down the street opposite from the house they were watching over. Each of the lamp lights illuminating the street began to flicker. One after another they would act as if someone were turning their power on and off again rapidly. The EMF meter hummed to life, beeping wildly and flashing its tiny, red lights in warning.

Dean and Bobby looked at each other. Wind scraped tree branches against the side of the unfinished house and sent leaves all aquiver as the two hunters leapt into action. They ran out the door and across the street to the Harlen's house, whose lights were now acting just as strangely as the ones out on the street. They got to the door and Dean kicked his boot against it, throwing it open and half way off its hinges.

A woman in the kitchen screamed, calling her husband to the room. Dean ran straight up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was able to discern from the commotion Bobby's voice telling the couple the he and Dean were the police and their family was in danger. Dean pushed off the wall opposite the top of the stairs to prevent himself from colliding with it and ran down the hall. His eyes fell on the form of a small child standing in her bedroom doorway, clutching a teddy bear in her tiny arms.

Dean recalled himself at the age of four again, standing scared in the hallway of his house back in Lawrence. He stopped short in front of the young girl and quickly knelt down before her.

"Run downstairs and go outside by your parents, ok?" Dean gently urged her towards the stairs by her shoulders and the girl took off down the hall after looking over the strange man who was in her house. Dean pulled a shotgun from the duffle bag and jumped to his feet. He hurried down the hall until he came to the room that served as a nursery.

A tall man was standing next to the crib with his back to Dean.

"Hey!" Dean called gruffly as he held the gun out arm's length, aiming it at the man. The man looked up but kept his back turned.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Dean felt as if ice water had replaced the blood in his veins and his aim faltered a little as he recognized the painfully familiar voice. Sam turned his head to look at Dean, a smile dimpling his normally soft features.

"Sam, what're you doing?" Dean spoke as calmly as he could, but his heart was slamming so hard against his ribs that he could have sworn that Sam would be able to hear it. His mind raced desperately in attempts to try and figure out what to do next.

Sam turned his head and looked back down at the baby in the crib.

"I'll be with you in a minute, Dean." Sam lifted his wrist; a small cut on it threatened to drip infected blood onto the unknowing infant.

"What're you doing?!" Dean's voice was loud this time and he dropped the bag and gun in his hands to the floor. He ran at Sam and tackled him to the floor as he heard someone enter the room behind him.

"Bobby, get the baby outside." Dean struggled to pin Sam as Bobby gently scooped up the now crying child from its crib and fled the room. Dean looked back down at Sam who was now laughing unpleasantly.

"Sam, you can beat this!" He fought with Sam's strong arms.

Sam cocked his head to the side, faux puzzlement scrunching his features.

"Who says I want to?" He pushed Dean off of himself, sending him to land heavily on the floor across the room. Dean pushed himself up on his palms and he reached into the bag he had landed by. Waiting impatiently for the air to flow back to his lungs, Dean located a flask of holy water. He unscrewed the top as he got to his feet and turned to Sam, flinging the water on him. Sam looked down as the water hit his chest. He looked up at Dean and smirked.

"Oops, doesn't look like that works."

Dean's eyes widened at the affect, or lack there of, that the holy water had on Sam. Sam eyed the guns and knives visible in the duffle bag. He gave Dean an incredulous look.

"What'd you expect to do with those?"

Dean put his hand up, completely out of ideas. "This isn't you, Sammy."

Sam's smirk turned down into a hateful frown. "I _really _hate it when you call me that!" He reached out and grabbed Dean by the throat, slowly lifting his feet away from the floor. Dean choked and grasped at Sam's arm.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this." Purred Sam. He tightened his grip a little. Dean felt his trachea make an unpleasant sound and he gasped for air.

Sam clenched his teeth. "For every time you told me what to do. For every time you stopped me from doing what I wanted..."

He brought Dean's face closer to his. "...You're going to pay." He released Dean's throat, letting him fall to his hands and knees, gasping in much appreciated air. Sam bent down and took hold of Dean's collar, but Dean jumped up and planted a punch heartily on his nose. Sam stumbled back a few steps, holding his bleeding nose. He looked at the blood on his hand and rubbed the crimson substance between him fingers, sneering up at Dean.

"Nice right hook, bro."

Dean's lip twitched. His mind was clouded with torn feelings about the person standing in front of him.

"Come on, Sam. You're in there somewhere, I know it." Dean's voice was weak and breathy as he tried to coax the real Sam back into the open.

Sam wiggled his nose a bit and the drips of blood running from it retreated back up to their place of origin.

"That's better." His eyes flashed menacingly.

Sam stretched his arms out. "Fine, we'll do it your way. More fun for me." He brought his arms around into a fighter's stance.

Dean looked at him for a few moments, unmoving.

"Come on..." Sam's eyes narrowed tauntingly. "...Hit me."

Dean knew Sam's fighting skills were excellent as a regular person; he didn't want to find out what they would be like as a demon.

"I'm not gonna fight you, Sam."

Sam shrugged and walked forward. "Fine." He hit Dean square in the jaw, knocking him off balance. Dean recovered and returned the punch. Sam ducked just in time and threw a kick to Dean's abdomen. Dean buckled over but managed to grab Sam's arm and twist behind his back.

"Don't do this!"

Sam just growled and swung Dean around into a wall. He looked at Dean, laughing with sheer amusement.

"Looks like I get to kick _your_ ass for a change." Sam threw another punch but Dean blocked it and brought his elbow down heavily on Sam's arm. There was a snap and Sam cried out through clenched teeth. He pulled away from Dean, cradling his broken right arm to his chest. He looked, seemingly fascinated, at the odd angle his lower arm bone had been bent into. Dean stood, breathing heavily and looking with disgust and slight regret at what he had done to Sam's arm. Sam took his right forearm in his left hand and jerked it up. A sick, snapping sound ensued and Sam shook his arm a little as invisible powers healed the broken bone. He grinned wickedly at Dean.

"Cool trick, huh?"

Dean glared at him angrily.

"You're fighting a losing battle, Dean. Not sure what you're trying to prove. _I'm _Sam, and there's nothing you can do to change that."

Dean nodded and set his jaw. "Watch me."

Sam frowned and jerked his head to the side. Dean was thrown up against the ceiling then dropped to the floor again. Sam walked over to him, making a clicking sound with his tongue and shaking his head. Dean rolled onto his back and he kicked Sam's legs out from underneath him. Sam fell and Dean jumped up, pinning Sam to the floor. He managed to land a few punches before Sam got free and threw a punch at Dean, sending him into the wall opposite. Sam smirked. He was done with this pointless fighting; it was time for him to end this once and for all. Sam picked himself up off the floor and reached to retrieve something from the small of his back, walking over to Dean. Sam reached down and took him by the collar with his left hand. He pulled Dean up to his feet and slammed him against the wall. Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the multiple points of pain aching all over his body. He unshielded his gaze after a moment and caught sight of what Sam held in his right hand, causing his eyes to widen.

"Sam! N-"

Dean's plea was cut short by the pain of a seven inch knife being pierced straight through his stomach. He jolted forward a little against the blow, a small choke of an outcry escaping his lips. His eyes shown with sorrow, pain, and a great sense of failure as they stared at the evil, satisfied look on what was once his little brother's face. Dean took in a short, choking breath, blood spilling over his lips. Sam twisted the knife, teeth bared maliciously. Dean gasped and he fisted his hands on the collar of Sam's jacket.

"Please..." His voice was hardly above a whisper as his eyes searched Sam's. Dean's face twisted in pain and tears made themselves present in his eyes. Their green gaze pleaded and looked deep into the bluish green of Sam's.

The look of pure hatred remained on Sam's face as he gleefully watched the one true threat to him slowly fade away before his evil eyes. He pushed the knife a little more, fascinated by how much pain this man was willing to undergo.

Dean silently clenched his teeth and grimaced against the pain, forcing a fresh gush of blood from his mouth. He kept his gaze intently on Sam's eyes.

"Sammy?" The one word came out in a choked, barely audible plea.

Sam's smirk widened, but then his brow furrowed a little. An odd, forgotten sensation sparked to life somewhere inside him and slowly spread itself throughout his body. The man in front of him was in pain. Sam felt...he felt..._sorry_ for him. He blinked once, a confused look showing on his face. It was his _brother. _His big brother, Dean, was in pain. Sam's features completely softened, his grip on the knife unconsciously loosening. He blinked and looked at Dean's familiar face with renewed eyes.

"D-Dean?" Sam's voice was filled with concern and confusion. Dean closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief, mixed with a choke of pain.

Sam's heart rate quickened.

"Dean? What's wro-" Sam felt something in his hand. He slowly looked down at the knife buried up to its hilt in Dean's stomach, the handle clutched in his own hand. Sam let out a quiet sound of shock as he stared at his hand, lightly splattered with Dean's blood. He quickly withdrew his hand off the hilt, acting as if it had it had given him an electric shock. Pure terror enveloped Sam as he remembered that it had been _him_ who had wielded the weapon and _him _who had caused the pain his brother was in right now.

"Oh God!..." Sam's voice trembled.

"Oh God, Dean!" He looked up at Dean's ever paling, blood covered face. Dean reached his shaking hand up and lightly touched the side of Sam's face.

"Sammy?" He said again quietly.

Sam's eyes filled with tears as he looked at Dean. "Oh God, what'd I do...What'd I do..." Sam looked down at the knife again.

"Listen, I'm gonna take care of this, ok? You'll be fine." Sam steadied Dean with his left hand and pulled the knife out with his right.

Dean clenched his teeth and groaned, starting to slide down the wall. Sam threw the knife down angrily and he caught Dean under his arms.

"I gotcha, I gotcha." He tried to sound soothing for Dean, but his voice trembled with rising panic. Sam lowered him to the floor and sat down himself, propping Dean's back up against his legs. Sam supported him by putting his arm around Dean's shoulders. Dean grunted a bit as Sam accidentally stressed his wound, but he kept his gaze fixed on Sam's face.

"Dean, hey. Ya with me?" Sam tried to smile at him, but couldn't as he dropped his eyes back to examine Dean's wound.

"God, Dean." Tears streamed down Sam's face as he applied pressure to the gaping hole in Dean's stomach.

"I'm sorry, Dean. Aw damnit! I'm so sorry. I'll stop this, I promise."

Dean gripped Sam's hand in his. Sam flinched a little, taken aback by how cold Dean's touch was against his skin. His brother's voice pulled Sam's attention away from the wound.

"Look at me."

Sam looked up.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this...don't you dare." Dean shook his head weakly, but his face was determined and strong.

"Dean, I didn't mean to-I...I couldn't stop my-"

Dean nodded and interrupted Sam. "I know. It wasn't...wasn't you."

Sam let out a choked sob. He heard footsteps behind him in the hall.

"Dean!" Sam heard Bobby's call as he stopped short upon entering the room.

"Get help!" Sam looked back at him. Bobby took a few steps towards him.

"Sam?"

"Go!" Sam yelled gruffly.

Bobby stumbled back out of the room and his running footsteps disappeared down the hall again. Sam looked back down at Dean and smiled, fisting the shoulder of his brother's old, leather jacket in his hand.

"See? You're gonna be fine. An ambulance will be here soon."

Dean smiled up at Sam, tears ran down his temples.

"You're...back..."

Sam smiled weakly and nodded. Dean closed his eyes and sighed softly.

"I've done my j-job then." Dean's face relaxed.

Sam's chin trembled and he frowned, shaking Dean violently.

"Dean? Dean! Don't you do this! Stay with me!"

Dean opened his eyes and he smiled.

"You're bossy..."

Sam's tear-stained face dimpled into a smile.

"Must've learned it from my big brother." He squeezed Dean's hand, still attempting to stop the blood that was hopelessly leaking from the wound that both their hands were covering.

Dean grinned, a fresh stream of tears falling from his eyes.

"B-bitch..." He said in a low, harsh voice.

Tears rolled down Sam's face as he laughed. "Jerk." His voice cracked as he spoke softly, hardly above a whisper.

Dean's smile widened and he let out a deep sigh, his eyes sliding closed after a moment. His features softened and stilled completely after a moment, a trickle of blood sliding from the corner of his mouth.

Sam's eyes searched Dean's face frantically and he shook him a little.

"Dean?" He felt Dean's fingers loosen their grip from around his hand.

"Dean?" Sam's voice grew louder and he brought his hand away from Dean's to shake him by the collar.

"Dean!" Sam shouted as he grasped at Dean's jacket. His voice echoing back to him was the only sound he heard. The harsh moment of realization passed over Sam like a cloud blocking out the light from the sun. He looked down at his brother's peaceful face and let the grief overtake him completely.

Sam took in a shaky breath of air and he hugged Dean's limp form into his shoulder. He rested the side of his face against the top of Dean's head.

Sam sobbed out a long, broken cry of denial. He rocked gently back and forth as he gripped Dean's leather jacket in his hands, feeling as if he could not hold him close enough. Sam lost his sight completely to the distortion of tears and he just sat there, his only brother cradled in his arms...dead.

Sam cried harder than he ever had in his entire life. His mind tortured him with replays of all the time he and Dean had spent together, and all the time they would never be able to spend together now. He was tortured by the fact that _he_ had been the one to inflict the killing blow, and how _he_ himself had ended Dean's life; a life that had been completely devoted to the safety of his little brother.

Sam lost all concept of time. He had no idea how long he'd sat there, still desperately holding on to the one person he had left in the world. He didn't know how many times he called out his brother's name and begged him to come back to him. He didn't know how many tears he cried, Sam just sat there, not knowing or even caring about any of it. He was lost in a world of more sorrow and regret than someone could expect to feel in a thousand lifetimes. For the first time in his life, he was completely alone.

Dean Winchester's funeral was held three days later. Sadly the attendance was limited to Sam, Bobby and two workers who lowered the mahogany casket into the ground and buried it.

After the last of the dirt was back into place, Bobby left. He simply touched Sam's shoulder and left him to his thoughts.

Sam stood before Dean's grave, staring blankly at the slab of grey granite at the edge of it. The words "Older Brother To Sammy" stood out boldly and painfully to him. Sam took in a breath and he sniffed. He walked a few steps closer to the headstone and remained completely quiet for a good five minutes, just staring at the freshly laid dirt.

"I tried to make a deal." He confessed finally in a quiet voice, looking down at his shoes and nodding.

"But uh..." Sam chuckled.

"...She refused. She said you were out of her reach." Sam paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"You'd be glad to hear that she sounded really pissed about that." He smiled, hopeful that he had the correct interpretation of the crossroad demon's meaning when she had said that she no longer had access to Dean.

Sam looked back up at his brother's name etched in the shiny, stone surface.

"I guess it was for the best though. You probably wouldn't have talked to me again if I had gone through with it anyway."

Sam laughed and licked his dry lips. He looked over at Dean's neighboring headstone.

"We buried you next to mom. Thought you'd appreciate that. Tell her I said 'Hi', ok? Dad too." Sam bit his lower lip and took in a shuddering breath.

"I miss you guys...you most of all, Dean." He shook his head and looked down.

"I miss you so much, man." Sam's chin shook and tears welled up in his eyes.

"And I'll come back and see ya from time to time, ok? I promise." Sam wiped at his eyes and he took a long look at his brother's head stone.

"Bye, Dean." He said quietly. He turned and walked slowly back to the gravel road where the Impala waited patiently for him; the setting sun reflecting blindingly off her shiny, black surface.

Sam got into the driver's seat and he sat for a moment, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He blinked finally and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out his brother's necklace; the amulet on a plain, black string that Sam had never once seen Dean without.

He rubbed his thumb over the Egyptian charm thoughtfully as he held it in his hand. He draped it around the rear-view mirror and gazed at it, eyes following as it swung back and forth. The necklace seemed to hypnotize Sam, pulling him into a trance-like state for a few moments. He took in a deep breath finally and looked away, tears rolling down his face. He turned the keys in the ignition and the Impala rumbled to life. Sam ran his hands over the steering wheel and he nodded at his brother's necklace, still swaying slightly to and fro.

"We've got work to do." He said quietly.

Sam drove the old car along the gravel path and onto the pavement of the main road. He thought to himself as the Impala hummed along, wondering what Dean might say to him at that moment. About him making the decision to carry on. To continue saving people, hunting things; the family business. Sam smiled; he knew what Dean would say. His brother's voice was so clear and prominent in his mind that Sam could almost hear the words as they lingered, like echoes, in his memory.

_"That's my boy."_


End file.
